


Their Own Side

by fuckyeahdeafandasexual



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Queer Guardian Angel Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:01:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24839602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckyeahdeafandasexual/pseuds/fuckyeahdeafandasexual
Summary: It all starts when Crowley finds a book about Aziraphale.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 192





	Their Own Side

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [such surpassing brightness](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17752469) by [bibliocratic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bibliocratic/pseuds/bibliocratic). 



> This fic got inspired by several Queer Guardian Angel Aziraphale headcanons on tumblr and a fic here on ao3.
> 
> I started writing it last summer and because of my library studies I could only finish it now. I had so much fun writing this!
> 
> Big big thanks to Tanouska for beta-ing and being a godsent! Give her a huge wahoo you all!

“Zira! Did you know about this?!” 

Aziraphale was too distracted by Crowley himself, sauntering in his bookshop, carrying a book and holding it up for him, that he didn’t really looked at the book itself. 

Crowley’s face was kind of excited and giddy, like a child that had found a new toy. Aziraphale wasn’t keen on looking at a book that made Crowley look like that.

Until his curiosity won over and he did actually look at the book.

Oh. 

‘The Legend of Ezirafael: Patron Saint of the Queers’

Well.

It wasn’t that Aziraphale was completely unaware of the rumors he had instigated during all these 6000 years, he just had never realized what the outcome of them would be. 

He carefully took the book from Crowley. The image on the cover was a modern minimalist design of Aziraphale himself with the flaming sword. 

And a tiny snake draped around his shoulder. 

Apparently Aziraphale hadn’t been as careful as he had thought. 

"I suspected, yes," Aziraphale answered, "but nothing of this scale."

"You really went out and told everyone about us all these centuries, huh?" Crowley looked very amused now.

"It was never my intention, my dear," Aziraphale protested, which only made Crowley laugh. Then he leaned over the desk to peck a quick kiss on the angel’s lips.

"I am sure, Zira. Dinner at seven, right?"

"Yes." Aziraphale did his best not to blush, but he failed spectacularly.

Crowley winked. "Keep the book, it's a present."

"Oh, thank you,"

Aziraphale admired Crowley's behind as he left the bookshop. And then he realized something.

"CROWLEY! DID YOU PAY FOR THE BOOK?!

Crowley only waved as he shut the door.

****

Aziraphale skimmed through the book. It wasn't heavy nor thick. It was mostly historical stories of things he had actually done or said. Those two young soldiers he had married in Rome. Those girls in France, having run away from their family, searching for a future together. There had been so many people, loving each other, forbidden by the times they lived in. But their Love was so strong that Aziraphale could never withstand it.

There was that one flattering sonnet that Shakespeare had written about him. Aziraphale had always suspected Crowley had something to do with it.

There were pictures of contemporary paintings and drawings. Sometimes with a flaming sword. Sometimes with Crowley as a snake. Sometimes he married people or blessed a child.

And then there was a whole segment on the Eighties. Oh, the eighties. What a dreadful horrible time that was. All those young people, men and women and inbetween, so young and full of love. All of them dying a horrible slow death.

Aziraphale had been to the Broderip ward a lot, almost every day. He talked to the people who didn't get a lot of visits or none at all. Sometimes he read them a book they had asked for or listened with them to music.

Many nights he had sat at the beds of the dying, waiting till they drew their last breath.

Crowley had sometimes come with him, or comforted him afterwards, in his own demon way. Many times they had sat in the Fitzrovia Chapel, which was a safe place for Crowley because it never had been consecrated.

Crowley had been angry a lot, then. Angry at Her. Angry at the world. Angry at humanity.

Luckily there were also happy moments in the book. People talked about how they had found strength in the legend of the Queer Guardian Angel. The strength to be themselves, to love who they loved.

Some dressed even up as 'him' and went to those huge 'comic cons'.

Aziraphale was almost finished with the book, when a car honked on the street.

He looked up, surprised to see it was already starting to get dark outside.

Oh! Was it time already?

His eyes were still a bit puffy from crying when he read the part about the aids crisis.

He miracled himself a suit that fitted going out for dinner. Not too casual, but not too posh. They were gonna try out a new little Korean restaurant that opened up a few streets further. 

In the end, since it wasn’t raining, they decided to walk to the place. After a street of two, they held hands, interlacing their fingers. Crowley had painted his nails a dark red, which really suited him.

This whole dating thing was quite new and tender and exhilarating for both of them. After Armaggedidn’t and the kidnapping by Heaven and Hell, they got drunk (as usual) and one thing had led to another and before they knew it they were confessing their love and kissing. 

They went on dinners (dates) every few days, always hanging out at Aziraphale’s bookshop afterwards. 

Now that they were free of Heaven and Hell, free of all their duties, they were stuck in this abyss of decisions and choices. 

Never in their millenia long life had they ever had this much freedom. But now they did. 

They arrived at the restaurant. It looked very cosy. As usual, Aziraphale ordered three courses, while Crowley only ordered a main course, which he probably wouldn’t finish and give the rest to Aziraphale in the end.

Aziraphale was enjoying his appetizer, a couple of little radish pancakes, with soy-lemon sauce to dip them in. They were really delicious.

“So, you read the book then?” Crowley asked, sipping his glas of rice wine.

“Almost. I got a couple of pages left. But- but it is a very beautiful book. Very touching.”

“Hmmm,” Crowley nodded.

“You read it?” Aziraphale asked a bit surprised. Because, well, Crowley didn’t do books. Like, ever.

“Yeah,” Crowley smiled, “not completely, but most of it. I skipped the Eighties, though, feels too soon,”

Aziraphale sighed softly. “Yes, indeed,”

They shared a moment in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

“You want to try a pancake?” Aziraphale offered, “They are really good.” He held out a fork with a little pancake on it. Crowley took it, and there was something intimate on a whole new level about this, feeding his boyfriend. Aziraphale couldn’t help but blush and he filed the thought away for later to explore more. 

After Aziraphale was done his appetizer, the main dishes were brought out. Aziraphale was enjoying his spicy stew with soft tofu and shellfish, called ‘sundubu jjigae’ according to the menu. Crowley had ‘tteokguk’ or rice cake soup. 

“I have been thinking about what we could do, now that we are ‘unemployed’.” Crowley said, while Aziraphale was cleaning out his bowl.

“I have my bookshop, I am busy enough with that,”

“Oh, really? How many books have you sold this week, hmmm?” 

“It’s not about that,” Aziraphale defended himself.

“But don’t you want to do more? Run an actual bookshop and help people? Like you have done all these centuries?”

“Like-,” Aziraphale hesitated, “You have already a plan cooked up, huh?”

Crowley nodded, a soft smile on his lips. “We could put your precious books in a ‘not for sale’ section or upstairs, and turn the rest of it into a Queer bookshop.”

“A Queer bookshop?” Aziraphale frowned.

“Hmmm, a bookshop that specializes in books with queer characters. Or books about queer history. There is already ‘Gay’s The Word’ in Bloomsbury in the West End, but nothing close here. And we would be much closer to pride than them.”

“Right,” Aziraphale didn’t know what to think of it. He wasn’t opposed, but it had been his bookshop for over more than a century and a half and he didn’t know if he was okay with changing it.

“Take your time thinking about it, okay?” Crowley assured him, “You don’t have to decide now. I just thought that it would be nice to do something with the time that we now have now on our hands.”

Aziraphale nodded. And then, after a moment, “I think I am gonna have honey cookies for dessert,” and Crowley smiled, because of course. 

And if Crowley allowed Aziraphale to feed him a cookie then that was nobody's business. 

****

Aziraphale needed a few days to think things over but in the end he said yes.

"Fine, I will do it," Aziraphale smiled. They were back at the bookshop, after beingen out for lunch at an italian place nearby, on their way to getting slightly tipsy.

He had actually visited that queer bookshop in Bloomsbury without Crowley knowing, just to get the feel of what Crowley was talking about.

The place had been overflowing with Love. Aziraphale had basked for hours in it, enjoying looking at the books and listening to the visitors talking with each other. He even encountered several copies of the book Crowley had given him.

He could do this. They could do this.

Crowley grinned at his words. "Excellent!"

The following days they were busy with transporting the most fragile books upstairs. Without any miracles. Aziraphale didn't trust even the miracles to not damage his precious books.

Aziraphale spend the rest of his time reading up on the queer community and all the different identities. He made lists and lists and lists of books to order, with much help from the internet, calling publishers and talking to other booksellers, exchanging experiences.

Crowley had moved a couple of his plants to the bookshop to add a bit more green to it. Aziraphale heard him occasionally yelling at the poor plants, so he sometimes whispered nice things to them when the demon wasn't around.

"We should sell flags too," Crowley said when they were unpacking boxes full of newly arrived books and shelving.

"Why?"

"Well, Pride is coming up in two months. And it's always a hardship getting the good merchandise. Now that I am thinking of it, we could do pins too. And mugs. Socks, maybe too. And nice tote bags."

"Let's start simple, shall we, my dear?"

"Okay, angel,"

"Could you take care of that then? I am busy enough as it is with the books."

"I suppose I could."

Aziraphale thanked Crowley with a quick kiss, which led to more making out. Much shelving wasn't done that day.

****

A week later they found themselves cuddling on Aziraphale’s comfiest sofa upstairs, with hot cocoa and fuzzy blankets. Crowley was reading a book, which was quite unusual for him. Although reading maybe wasn't the right word, seeing as he was muttering words Aziraphale couldn't make sense of and flipping pages back and forth and scribbling in a little cute notebook he seemed to carry on him a lot.

Crowley had been cranky for a couple of days already and Aziraphale was starting to get a bit worried. Whatever was troubling his lover, it was quite serious.

He had asked a couple of times what was going on and if everything was okay but Crowley always deferred his questions.

Crowley sighed, put the book on the coffee table, shed his blanket on the sofa and walked away, going downstairs. A couple of moments later Aziraphale heard the front door close.

Well.

It wasn't like Crowley hid the book so Aziraphale couldn't read it. He shuffled closer to the book so he could read the title on the cover.

'Ten Thousand First Names: and their origin and meaning. The perfect name for your baby!'

What?

Aziraphale didn't know what to think of it. Except that he was very much thinking it.

Oh dear.

****

Aziraphale was an anxious mess by the time Crowley came back to the bookshop. Which wasn't later that evening. Or the next day. Or the day after that.

It took five very long days.

Aziraphale didn't even dare to imagine what Crowley could be doing in those five days.

Aziraphale was sitting at his desk, staring at a book without even reading it. The shelving was mostly done. He had been dutiful watering the plants and complimenting them. The last few books he had ordered were on their way. The signage in the shop, telling the clients where everything was shelved, was complete and hung up on their respective bookcases. It wasn't like he had much else to do now that his demonic boyfriend wasn't around and at least his hands were busy when his thoughts were running around.

And then Crowley walked through the door. He looked quite different. His hair was a bit longer, still fiery red. His body was less sharp, a tiny bit more curvy. A long black dress reaching to his shoes.

He looked very womanly.

"Hello, Angel." Crowley smiled.

"Crowley," Aziraphale sighed a breath of relief. "I was worried where you went. Are you okay?"

"Me? Yes. I just needed to figure a few things out. It's Athena now, by the way."

"Athena?"

"Yes. I needed something different than last time. Athena suits me, I think."

Aziraphale thought it over, tasting the name in his head.

"In a way, yes, indeed."

"I didn't plan to stay away for five days, though," Crowley apologized, "I got carried away."

"It is okay,"

And then something occurred to him.

"Is that what you needed the name book for? For your new name?"

Crowley nodded.

"What did you think I needed it for maybe?"

Aziraphale blushed and Crowley laughed.

"Never change, my dear Angel, never change."

****

It was one of those mornings where Aziraphale had convinced Crowley to stay for the night. They cuddled in bed, early sunlight streaming through the window. Crowley was still asleep. Aziraphale occupied himself by staring at Crowley's freckles, trying to count them. He always lost count around fifty.

Crowley grumbled something and buried his face in Aziraphale's neck. Aziraphale couldn't help but blush. It wasn't that they were naked, but he hadn't bothered to put on a night shirt and this was way more intimate than he was used to.

Crowley placed a soft kiss on Aziraphale's throat, making the angel even blush more.

"Good morning, beloved," He smiled.

"Hmmm," Crowley smiled back, her eyes fluttering open, "Excited for the opening tomorrow?"

"I am. There are only a couple of things that I need to finish or look over. Do you want to join me for breakfast?"

"The new bakery here in the street?"

"Hmmm, they have delicious breakfast crepes," Aziraphale gushed and Crowley couldn't help but grin at her angel.

****

Today was the day they planned to open the renewed bookshop and Aziraphale was nervous.

One hour to go.

Crowley was sunbathing on the windowsill in her snake form. Her glasses sitting next to her.

Aziraphale put the kettle on the stove and busied himself around the shop while waiting for the water to boil. He turned some plants so they would get the most amount of sunlight.

The kettle started to whistle and Aziraphale made two large cups of tea. Something to soothe their nerves while they are waiting for the hour to pass.

He heard a yawn and saw Crowley sitting on the windowsill in the same pyjamas she was wearing before she took a nap.

She softly kissed Aziraphale on the forehead and went upstairs to put on the perfect clothes for the shop opening.

When she came back downstairs, Aziraphale noticed the small white feather in her braided hair.

Oh.

It is a tiny detail but so beautiful. Something of his belonging to his dearest demon.

He had given it to her after his latest molting. A token of love and trust.

And now she was wearing it. On this very special day. Crowley was sipping her tea with a smile on her face.

After breakfast they finally open their bookshop for the first time. It is a special moment: turning the sign on the shop door from 'closed' to 'open'.

It is official now.

After five minutes their first customer dared to come in. A girl with pink hair in a ponytail and glasses. She wandered the bookshelves, humming appreciating noises at certain books.

She took a flyer with the shops opening hours and bought 'Red White & Royal Blue'. After a genuine smile she is out the door.

More and more customers drip in the shop, buying a book or a gadget. Others ask Aziraphale to order something he didn’t have in stock.

Crowley brought him lunch, some delicious sandwiches (chicken with camembert) with a kiss on the cheek and then went to nap in the afternoon sun in the etalage.

****

In the evening they went out for dinner to celebrate the first and successful day of their queer bookshop. 

Many more days followed.

Aziraphale learned the names of his loyal customers. His customers even recommend him queer books that they loved and he promises them to look into those. 

Sometimes he just listens and talks to those who needs someone to talk to. To know that they matter, that they are loved. 

Crowley doted on the plants that have found a home in the bookshop. He searches for recipes for Aziraphale to try.

The angel always put some samples to taste in the shop and asked his customers what they think of it.

Rainbow cake. Rainbow lollipops. Rainbow fudge. Rainbow swirl cupcakes. Lucky charms marshmallows treats.

They created their own little Eden. A safe heaven for outcasts.

****

And then it's July and the Pride Parade happens. They have both worked hard to prepare for day.

Aziraphale felt almost drunk, being surrounded by so much love and happiness.

Their bookshop was overflowing with customers, the weather was terribly hot and Crowley hands out rainbow popsicles to their visitors as a refreshment.

Some people from the asexual stand next door brought some cake for them. 

The day finally dwindled down. Aziraphale closed the shop when it's already dark, way after their normal closing hours, but it was totally worth it.

They sat on the roof with a bottle of wine and some leftover popsicles and enjoyed watching the people on the street.

They were singing and dancing, holding hands and kissing.

Aziraphale let his head rest on Crowley's shoulder.

This is where they belong. This is their home. Their own side till the end of the world.

**Author's Note:**

> KUDOS AND COMMENTS FEED MY SOUL


End file.
